19. Colm And Frosti

Colm was now a wealthy man. Like most men of importance, he spent a great deal of time talking to others about affairs of the district. His farmhands worked well even when he was away and he trusted them. These were all free men. There were only a few slaves left at the Trollfarm, young women that worked in the household. Gwyneth tended to free them when they became of marriageable age, then they worked as free women, trying to gather a stake so that they and their husbands could find a farm somewhere.

So Colm looked in on his herds of sheep and cattle and horses, and oversaw the cutting of hay. He took a personal interest at trying to grow barley but nothing much ever came of that project. He organized driftwood collection at the places where foreshore rights weren’t bespoke, and salt-making and fishing and birding. Sometimes he gathered sulfur for trade with the ships that visited Iceland. He took very careful note of everything that happened on his farm. The farmhands never knew when he might suddenly appear to examine their work. He was busy and he was prosperous. He was a serious man. Still, he found time to look in on Mar and see that everything was going well, or visit Gunnar or Ketil, who he treated as a subordinate ever since Orm had refused to sell him the amber pendant, and, from time to time, he went to see Frosti.

Adals had taken his winnings from the horsefight and bought mares to breed to Raven’s-Mane. He tried to choose the offspring of other good fighting horses. Soon he had quite a herd and began trying to train the young stallions to fight. Alas, Adals was not much good as a horse-trainer and quickly ran through his cash.

The farm at Helgafeld had few sheep and only one cow. So Frosti spent his days in the meadows with the horses. He tended them and watched over them, treating the injuries they gave one another and those they developed from falls. He gave special attention to Raven’s-Mane, who now seemed recovered from the fight with Gryr, except for a terrible scar on his muzzle.

Colm came upon Frosti in the meadow. He was rubbing herbs on the horse’s skin. “It keeps the flies away,” he told Colm. “I’ve watched and some plants the horses don’t like and others they don’t mind, if you bring them on slowly. These are good ones to keep away the flies.”

Colm took the bruised plants from Frosti and smelled them. “I wonder if they would work on sheep.”

“I don’t know. I know nothing about sheep.”

“Well, you seem to know horses pretty well. Raven’s-Mane looks fresh and healthy.”

Frosti became pensive. “Yes. He is now. But not for long, I think.”

“How is that?”

“Adals is going to fight him again.”

Colm was taken aback by the sadness in Frosti’s voice. “And you fear for him?”

“He may win or not, I don’t know, but he has never quite recovered from the fight with Gryr. And he is old. Well, at least eight, but I think, ten years old. I think, win or lose, Raven’s-Mane will suffer such wounds that he will die.”

“Have you spoken to Adals about this?”

“Yes. But it doesn’t matter. The other stallions have not developed as fighters and they haven’t been trained as riding animals, either. No one wants them.” Frosti shrugged. “Adals needs money. This is the only way he sees to get it.”

“But...”

Frosti shook his head. “The horse is doomed. There is no escaping it.”

Colm had never thought much about fighting horses. So far as he was concerned, a horse was for riding or for sacrifice. If a fighting horse should die... well, that was its doom, as Frosti said. But the young man’s sadness touched him. “I suppose everything has its fate and animals are fated to serve men until they die.”

Frosti nodded. “Even so, there are some animals you wish could escape their fate.” He sighed. “And it’s useless, too. Even if Raven’s-Mane should win, Adals will not have enough to keep the farm going much longer. I suppose he will sell up, or try to, if anyone wants this cursed place. Thorolf is still owed quite a bit for it.”

“What about you?”

“I will find a place as farmhand somewhere.”

“Well, if it comes to that, come see me. I have horses that could do with fewer flies.”

Frosti smiled. “All right. And I can help you buy and sell them, too. I’ve learned a few things about these animals by now.” He shook his head. “Horses are much easier to understand than humans.”

So the two men sat in the meadow, watching the horses in the meadow: the mares grazing, their colts jinking about, the stallions keeping clear of one another. Frosti pointed out the personalities of each horse, speaking of the value and shortcomings of every one. Then they spoke of fate and how lives wound their way together, deeply serious stuff that made Colm wish he had some beer.